


ink-splattered notebook paper

by bs13



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: + all the cliché of fake dating with a twist, F/F, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before Au, all human/no supernatural stuff au, basically an exes to fake lovers to lovers au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs13/pseuds/bs13
Summary: Josie’s life is complicated; she has an ex-girlfriend she’s still in love with, an almost-friend she pretends to hate, and a sister consumed with ruling the school. Plus—to make matters worse—she has four secret love letters that have accidentally been mailed out. So. (Not exactly a stellar beginning to junior year.)





	1. one (💌)

**Author's Note:**

> posie has ruined me so obviously my solution was to start a new multichapter 🙃 love that for me
> 
> this is a big twist on tatbilb—while penelope is “peter” and hope is “josh,” their storylines are more true to the show’s history. but both the book & movie of tatbilb serve as major inspiration tho, bc i’m all about the Tropes
> 
> also!! i have to give a shoutout to [moksha](https://simplecomplicatedtoughsensitive.tumblr.com/) for enabling me to write this + having breadowns with me about posie 24/7, you’re the real MVP 💕

August nights are hot, humid, and horrible—the first day of junior year is no exception.

Josie sits with Lizzie by the pool, inhales the scent of chlorine and burning marshmallows and swallows the lukewarm beer on her tongue. The backyard is alit with bonfires even in the sweltering heat, and their spot has one of the showiest fire pits by far; Kaleb’s parties are legendary like that.

“This is disgusting,” Lizzie says, setting aside her second bottle of the night. For as much as she complains, she still reaches for a third.

Josie says nothing about it. Instead she tilts her head back and stares up at the sky, catalogues the stars with her eyes, and thinks wistfully of the Gilmore Girls marathon on tonight.

Somewhere to her right MG cracks up, probably due to something Kaleb has said. It’s always like this when the night dies down, the four of them sitting by the poolside as the remaining partygoers filter out. 

“No, no, you kissed _her_? Really?”

“Hey man, it was _once_ —”

Lizzie bumps her shoulder against Josie’s accidentally. A moment later she gives a long, drawn out sigh and says, “I can’t believe he didn’t come.”

Josie doesn’t need to ask who she’s talking about. “He was probably busy,” she says. Her beer is still nearly full, and she begrudgingly takes another tiny sip from it.

“I invited him _personally_ ,” Lizzie mumbles, dropping her head against Josie’s shoulder. She’s a teary drunk most days, an angry drunk others. Luckily Josie knows how to handle both.

“Maybe he didn’t know it was an invitation,” Josie says. Lizzie only hums drunkenly, taking another drink from her bottle. A pop of a firecracker goes off a few houses down; Lizzie startles, and a few drops of her beer spill on Josie’s sweater.

MG clears his throat. “Hey, who wants s’mores?” he says, obviously looking at Lizzie when he says it. She doesn’t notice.

Kaleb snorts. “You’re going to man an open flame while drunk?” he says. “Here, give me the stick.”

“I’m not drunk—who’s drunk?” MG drops yet another marshmallow into the fire. “Oh, shit.”

Josie takes the chance to get to her feet. “You guys do that,” she says. “Has anyone seen Hope?”

“Who _cares_?” Lizzie scoffs. “Hopefully she left.”

“Um, she’s our ride home,” Josie reminds her, to which Lizzie only rolls her eyes. “I’ll go check inside the house.”

“Whatever.” Lizzie scoots over and drops her head on MG’s shoulder instead. Josie notices his awestruck reaction and wonders how it is that her Lizzie has never noticed how in love with her everybody is.

Josie squeezes through the throngs of people still dancing and heads inside, resolving to put the thought of relationships out of her mind. A few girls are crowded around the TV in the living room, but Hope’s not among them.

Next, she tries the bathroom. Nothing—though a quick look in the mirror shows her eyeliner is slightly smudged. She washes it off; it had been Lizzie’s idea, and it’s not to Josie’s taste anyway.

Josie ultimately decides she’s wasting her time. Hope _hates_ parties. If she’s anywhere, it’s sitting in the car waiting for Josie and Lizzie to get tired. But before Josie heads outside to see, she makes a quick detour to the kitchen; if Hope is really out there, she will be starving.

The lights are off and someone is there. No, more than one person, because faint whispering and shuffling can be heard. Josie wanders into the room and unthinkingly hits the lights—only belatedly praying she isn’t wandering into a hookup spot—when her eyes fall on Penelope Park.

“Oops,” comes an airy giggle; some girl Josie has never seen before is hanging off Penelope’s neck. Penelope, however, is as collected as always, sipping out of a glass and staring straight ahead.

For a moment, one single, fleeting, _charged_ moment, Josie and Penelope lock eyes. Every single repressed emotion that Josie has locked away over the summer bursts out into an embarrassing rush of _hurt_ , and she knows her face is falling even before Penelope’s calm demeanor cracks. Even then it is a blink-or-miss-it crack, barely a second when Penelope looks stunned, before she schools her features into her usual nonchalant expression.

“Sorry.” Josie’s voice is embarrassingly quiet. As she turns away she can _feel_ Penelope’s eyes following her, but she doesn’t stop.

(Not even when she hears Penelope say, “Josie—” in that hauntingly familiar, pleading tone.)

Josie stumbles out the front door, relishes the cool night air washing over her body, and lets herself breathe. Away from all the smoke of the bonfires and the scent of the alcohol she can think clearer already.

Hope is indeed waiting in the car. Josie sees her fast asleep in the driver’s side, and she regretfully knocks at the window to wake her up.

When Hope opens her eyes and sees Josie waving apologetically through the window, she gives a sleepy smile and unlocks the car. “Hey,” she says. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight,” Josie answers. “Sorry I had to wake you.” She climbs in the back seat, knowing that even though Lizzie is not here she will demand the passenger side soon enough.

“It’s fine,” Hope yawns. “Where’s Lizzie?”

“I don’t know.” Josie rests her head flat against the seat, all her emotions still whirling around and making it very hard to concentrate. “She’ll come eventually.”

Hope is quiet for a minute. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I’m just tired.” It’s unconvincing even to Josie’s ears.

Clearly, Hope picks up on her lie. “Was Penelope there?” she asks, softly, and there it is—the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Josie sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah,” she says. She’s on the brink of tears all of a sudden, but the thing about Hope is that she never judges. Hope is the one person Josie doesn’t actually _mind_ crying in front of, and in that moment she wishes everything were different. That she could actually sit beside Hope, that she could walk past Penelope and not be affected, that she could be _strong_.

But everything has become so complicated, and she doesn’t understand why.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener,” Hope offers.

“No, it’s okay.” Josie sighs. “I just wish…” There is so much she wants to say. _I wish I could get over her_? _I wish I could be your friend even though Lizzie hates you_? _I wish I never ruined everything_? At last all she manages is, “I wish I wasn’t here.”

“Me either,” Hope agrees, likely to cheer Josie up a little. It works; it makes her smile a bit, because she already _knows_ that. She knows _Hope_.

“If we didn’t have to take Lizzie home, I’d say we should go to the diner instead,” Josie says.

Hope angles the rearview mirror down to meet Josie’s eyes. “Let’s do that next time,” she says. And, “Shall I be your chauffeur then too?”

“You would be so lucky,” Josie says, burgeoning smile making itself known. They laugh, quiet but not without its fair share of necessary awkwardness. “Hey. You know, I never thanked you properly. For the summer.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Hope says. “I’ve got you, girl.” The teasing tone she adopts is so _unlike_ her that Josie feels her worries begin to slip away.

“Would it be totally cliché to ask you to play upbeat music or something?”

“Are you kidding? I know _just_ the thing.”

Maybe Josie should hate Hope for picking “Since U Been Gone” and blasting it at full volume, but it’s…kind of exactly what she needs.

.

.

.

Josie Saltzman has written four love letters in all her sixteen (almost seventeen) years of life.

Maybe the term “love letter” is too specific. Josie cares too much—it’s kind of a problem—but these letters are not so much about love as they are about an inconsequential crush. The subjects of these letters are proof; Josie writes out her feelings as her way of leaving each person, and each crush, in the past.

Seeing Penelope and hanging out with Hope listening to cheesy pop music yesterday has Josie feeling particularly nostalgic tonight. She hasn’t touched these letters in so long…everything about the weathered stamps, the crinkle of paper beneath her fingertips, the blotted ink at the corner of the pages has her reminiscing.

She turns over the first letter in her hands. Josie was thirteen when she developed a powerful crush on the girl next door—it had been so strong that to this day Josie is embarrassed about it. Hope Mikaelson had just been so beautiful, and mysterious, and Josie is _pained_ to remember how everything fell through with Hope. At least they’re friends now…or, sort of friends. Josie is still working up the courage to tell Hope the truth about everything.

It gets too heavy to reread Hope’s letter. Josie reaches for the second letter, the one that is the most whimsical. The summer before high school Josie went to camp and fell in love with a boy, a boy a year older than her who hadn’t been very inviting but dreamy nonetheless. Jed was a fantasy above all else; Josie sees him around campus sometimes, but the magic has _long_ worn off. (Now, he’s kind of a jerk.)

Speaking of _jerks_ …there’s letter three, and Josie reaches for it on autopilot. This letter is the one that still, after so long, gives her pause. Penelope Park was her first kiss, her first actual love, her first _everything_. Josie wrote this letter freshman year and rereading it even now gives her the funniest feeling in her stomach. This girl used to be her world, and now…now she doesn’t know what to do. Now, this letter is better off being placed in a new category called “letters of heartbreak” instead. But Josie can’t ever bring herself to get rid of it, so it remains tucked away with the others.

Finally, she reaches for the fourth envelope. This one is less a love letter and more a letter about a crush; Josie wrote it the beginning of sophomore year, when Rafael Waithe arrived at Salvatore High. She’d outgrown the notion of powerful infatuation being _love_ by then, but had still felt compelled to write him a letter anyway. It was cathartic, to write out her feelings knowing no one would ever know.

See, Josie’s letters have always been her secret. She’s never shared them with Lizzie; while Lizzie was out charming the masses and stringing hopeless boys along, Josie would be sitting at her bedroom desk with a pen cap between her teeth and a creamy white-beige piece of paper. They’re fundamentally different that way—been this different from each other since they were born.

Josie has never had too much trouble being the invisible twin. There are times when she wishes it wasn’t the case, but who is she to stand in Lizzie’s way? Lizzie has always been the outgoing twin. The _popular_ twin. When there is something Lizzie wants, she will go after it—and more often than not, she will expect Josie to go along with her plans. She is forceful, demanding, and that’s how it’s always been.

(This year, she’s set her sights on Rafael Waithe.)

Josie lingers on Rafael’s letter a bit longer for that. She remembers a time where of all the boys Lizzie had called dibs on, Rafael had been the only one Josie was dismayed to lose. Of course she doesn’t feel that way about him anymore, but she’s always been the sentimental type.

Tracing these love letters now reminds her she really should get _rid_ of them. She hasn’t written a letter in years, much less felt the urge to.

Admittedly, that’s mostly due to Penelope Park…but that is an entirely different story.

A sudden rap at her door snaps her back to reality. Josie scrambles to place the letters back beneath her bed, hastily smoothing down her covers for good measure. “What is it?” she calls.

“Dad’s waiting for us,” rings out Lizzie’s huffy voice. “He said he has something important to talk about.”

“I’ll be right down,” Josie promises, internally thanking every God imaginable that Lizzie hadn’t tried to open her door; if she had, she would’ve found it locked, and would’ve asked too many questions as a result.

Josie takes the steps downstairs two at a time, both hurried and apprehensive—she can hear her father clanging about in the kitchen, which means he’s attempting a fancy dinner. (That is never a good sign.)

“What’s this about, Dad?” Lizzie demands the very instant Josie is beside her. “For the last time, we don’t have any actual homework yet.”

There is flour smudged on Alaric’s forehead, but otherwise he’s the picture of seriousness as he says, “It’s not about homework.” Then, “Do I really talk about homework that much?”

“Kind of,” Josie says, pointedly phrasing it kinder than Lizzie would’ve.

Alaric clears his throat. “Well, it’s not that. I think it’s time we had a talk—”

“ _Please_ tell me this isn’t another lecture about safe sex,” Lizzie cuts in, horrified. “You already scarred me for life when you invited Satan over for that.”

Josie winces at the memory. That had _not_ been their father’s finest hour.

At the very least, Alaric seems pained at the reminder. “It’s not that either,” he says. “I just wanted to let you know that your mom’s been asking me to get you two started on donating your old things to Goodwill early. So if she asks, you’re both on top of it.”

“That’s it?” Lizzie frowns. “Then why are you cooking? You only cook when something is really serious.”

Alaric opens his mouth as if to negate the fact, but ultimately his resignation must win out. “Your mother wanted to be the one to tell you, but—she’s staying in Europe another two weeks.”

“ _Seriously_? Is it because of her boyfriend?” Lizzie cries. “She’s really going to miss our first few weeks of junior year because of a _guy_?”

Their father sighs. “She’ll explain everything. She’s going to call in about an hour—”

“Tell her not to bother!” Lizzie stalks off without warning, snatching the car keys on her way out. Seconds later, the front door slams shut.

Alaric casts a tired glance at Josie. “That went well,” he says wearily. “I’m going after her.”

Josie offers a tight-lipped smile in response. “I’ll watch whatever’s cooking,” she says.

She should’ve known that this night quickly becomes the calm before everything goes to shit.

.

.

.

Josie has been painstakingly planning out her junior year plans, despite what Lizzie might think.

They’re nothing too crazy—only to finally get her driver’s license, get good grades, maybe join a club or two. Lizzie, on the other hand, has big plans to rule the school; she wants to become half of a power couple and win junior prom queen all at once. That’s all fine for _Lizzie_ , but Josie doesn’t want that.

(She’s content to help, though, and so she follows Lizzie to the homecoming rally.)

“Saltzman twins!” MG waves them over to his spot on the bleachers. True to his willingness to please, he’s decked out in the school’s colors as per Lizzie’s request. “You made it. I was starting to get lonely.”

“No Kaleb?” Josie guesses.

“You know him. Not a school spirit guy,” MG says. “But you two are _killing_ it. I’m seriously digging the facepaint.”

His compliment (and subsequent heart eyes) are all for naught, because Lizzie is already scanning the stands for Rafael. Josie spots him at the same time Lizzie does—he’s seated among the other football players, all of them roughhousing and shouting. The thing about Rafael, though, is that he’s not like that. He is quiet, a bit of a loner, and even now as he’s pushed at by his jeering peers he only grins reservedly and lets himself be jostled. Josie respects him for it.

And Lizzie clearly goes _crazy_ for it, because she gives an honest-to-God dreamy sigh when she spots him. “He’s gorgeous,” she says. “How is Rafael so gorgeous?”

MG scoffs. “Him? He’s… _alright_.”

Lizzie, predictably, ignores him. “I wonder if he’s single yet,” she says. “Last I heard, he and Cassie were on the rocks.”

“Yet?” Josie echoes. “What, have you been waiting for him to be single all this time?”

“Yes, Josette,” Lizzie says, like it’s obvious. “I won’t be the other woman.” She stands up and says, “I think I’m going to say hi.”

Josie winces. “Lizzie,” she starts, “you barely know him. Are you really going to—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Lizzie insists. “MG, you can come with me, right? You’re a guy. You can talk to him with me.”

MG’s mouth falls open, then dejectedly shut. “Uh, I’m not sure I speak jock. That’s like, a whole other species of guy.”

“Come _on_ ,” Lizzie says impatiently, and MG is dragged off without another word.

Meanwhile, Josie resigns herself to another long school night. On the field the marching band begins to cross the field; she observes this with dull eyes, already bored. These homecoming rallies are nothing but meaningless pep contests. It’s not even a grand homecoming game. (Though Lizzie’ll probably drag Josie there too.)

“Hey Jojo.”

Josie stiffens. “ _What_ are you doing here?” she says, cautiously glancing at Penelope out of the corner of her eye. “It’s like you appear out of smoke.”

“Can’t a girl show her school spirit?” Penelope takes a seat on the row below hers, straddling the bleachers without a care. “Cute facepaint.”

Of all the ways Josie imagined their first conversation after the breakup, it hadn’t been like this. She’d expected Penelope to be as elusive as she herself wants to be—expected Penelope to _avoid_ her or something. But instead she’s smiling up at Josie nonchalantly, notably cool, exactly as unbothered as she is with everyone who isn’t a part of her adoring posse.

“You don’t care about this stuff,” Josie says, uncomfortably crossing her arms. She hates how it feels, to be on the other end of the famous Penelope Park stare.

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” Penelope shrugs a shoulder. Her smile falls a fraction, an action Josie is pretty sure only she would notice. “Listen, about what you saw at Kaleb’s…” 

“It’s none of my business,” Josie interrupts, stiffly staring out into the field. “Sorry I interrupted.”

Penelope shifts closer. “It wasn’t what you think,” she says. “That’s all.”

“Well, I don’t care.” Josie’s eyes are unfocused, unseeing, and she grips her arms so tightly it begins to hurt.

A soft touch to her knee snaps her back. “Josie—look at me. I mean it, it wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t _care_ , Penelope,” Josie snaps, jerking away. “You broke up with _me_ , remember? You’re free to hook up with whoever you want.”

“It wasn’t a hookup.”

“And?” Josie meets her gaze head-on. Penelope has the audacity to appear surprised at Josie’s hostility, as if she _hasn’t_ torn her heart in two. As if Josie is supposed to just fall back in line and adore her all over again. “I don’t believe you.”

All at once, Penelope’s cool girl mask falls back in place. “Then I guess there’s nothing I can say.”

With that, she finally leaves. And that sudden loss stings far more than any potential hookup of Penelope’s ever could.

Lizzie comes up just as Penelope is walking away. “Ew, what was _she_ doing here?”

“Nothing.” Josie doesn’t watch her walk away even though she’s itching to. “Did you talk to Rafael?”

Instantly, Lizzie’s sour mood brightens. “Yes! He said he was busy, so he didn’t come to the party. But he promised he’d come to the next one.”

“That’s great, Lizzie,” Josie says, grateful for the distraction. “So can we leave now? I’ve kind of got a headache.”

Lizzie frowns—not at Josie, moreso at her words. “It’s Penelope, isn’t it?” she says. “God, she’s so annoying. I’m sorry she bothered you, Jo. If you want me to give her a piece of my mind…”

“No, it’s okay.” Josie feels exhausted all at once; ever since the breakup Lizzie has made it her mission to hate Penelope Park with every fiber of her being, and it can be suffocating sometimes.

Truthfully, Josie can’t bring herself to hate Penelope too. She _misses_ Penelope. But she can’t tell Lizzie that, or else her sister will accuse her of being blinded by misguided emotions. It’s easier to go along with Lizzie’s hatred and pretend she is not as devastated as she actually is, to pretend that she wants to hurt Penelope as much as Penelope hurt her first.

“Then don’t let her ruin our fun,” Lizzie says. “Come on—let’s stay. At least until the football players get out there.”

Josie agrees, because how can she say no? It’s not like she has anything better to do. And, thankfully, she doesn’t see Penelope anywhere else that night.

That’s not to say that she isn’t looking. Once or twice her eyes wander and she has to pinch herself for being weak; caring for people officially _sucks_. Continuing to love her ex sucks even more.

For a fleeting moment she thinks about Hope Mikaelson. Josie wonders what she would think of everything that has transpired tonight. Hell, she thinks she might even ask her.

It’s a strange thought. Josie doesn’t know where it came from.

.

.

.

The day when Josie’s world comes unexpectedly crashing down is just like any other.

Hope drives Josie and Lizzie to school, because she always does—their parents are friends, and that’s partly the reason Hope is always stuck with them. Privately, Josie thinks that they’re the closest people Hope has to friends; Hope is pretty much a loner.

Tonight there is another party at Kaleb’s and Josie is struck with a sudden urge to invite Hope to go with them, instead of Alaric suggesting it. (Of course, he also thinks they’re going to hang out at MG’s house. If he knew they were going to Kaleb’s, he would _absolutely_ know it’s a party). She wonders if Hope would go if she asked—or if she’d even entertain the thought.

“Ugh, why is the devil always hanging around?” Lizzie says as they pull into the school parking lot. Penelope is leaning against the hood of her car like she always does, surrounded by her friends and admirers; Josie tries hard _not_ to stare at her as they drive past. “It’s like she spends her time waiting to make us miserable.”

Trying not to stare doesn’t work. Josie slumps low in her seat and does not make a comment of her own.

When she looks up, she sees Hope’s eyes on her through the rearview mirror. Hope has been notably _off_ this morning, and even more silent than usual. Something must have happened, but Josie doesn’t ask what—she knows Lizzie would only interject some snide comment about it.

As they’re getting out of the car, Hope actually waits for Josie and Lizzie to walk with them. Josie is surprised; Hope usually walks away without them. Even Lizzie is puzzled, because she casts a skeptical glance in Hope’s direction once or twice.

Hope never explains herself beyond, “Hey, I have soccer tryouts today. We have to leave an hour later than usual.” And, hesitant in a way Hope Mikaelson never is, she turns to Josie. “Can we maybe talk before? During your free period?”

“Talk about _what_?” Lizzie says. “Whatever you have to say to my sister you can say in front of me, Mikaelson.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Lizzie,” Hope sighs. Her gaze never wavers, only stays on Josie, half concerned and half apprehensive.

“ _Excuse_ me? If I recall, you’re the champion of talking about me behind my back, so forgive if I’m not jumping at the chance of you bothering my sister.”

Josie’s stomach turns. “Lizzie, stop.” She grips the straps of her backpack a little tighter and tells Hope, “Sure, I'll come find you. Text me.”

Lizzie doesn’t bother to hide the fact that she rolls her eyes. Hope spares Josie one small, understanding smile before she leaves them to their own devices.

“She’s unbelievable,” Lizzie huffs at her retreating figure. “Who does she think she is?”

“It’s probably nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Josie says. As they squeeze their way among the crowds entering the school, she nearly faints with relief to see Rafael alone by his locker. “Hey, why don’t you say hi to Rafael? I’m going to stash my chem book before my first class.”

As expected, Lizzie is immediately concerned with anything but Josie. “Should I? That wouldn’t make me look too desperate, would it?” she asks. “Guys like him make me so nervous. I don’t know how to handle it.”

“You’ll be fine,” Josie assures her. If anything good has come from Lizzie’s junior year resolutions, it’s the ability to distract her from Josie’s crumbling social life. “See you in homeroom.”

Today has been so _strange_ and it’s barely morning. Josie runs through everything she’s done in her mind, trying to figure out why Hope kept staring at her all morning, as she opens her locker (an act that takes more tries than usual).

None of it makes sense—especially the fact that Hope wants to talk. She and Josie already _do_ talk, just never when Lizzie is around. It’s an entirely unspoken thing that Josie can’t wrap her head around. Why would Hope want Lizzie to know now that they’re…whatever they are? What could possibly be so important that she would risk all the progress they’ve made towards being friends again?

“You know, you’re a hard person to track down alone.”

 _As if this day needed to get worse_. “What do you want, Penelope?” Josie mumbles. 

“Nothing, actually.” Penelope leans against the locker beside Josie’s, as casual and collected as usual. “But I am curious about something.”

Josie is beginning to learn that taking the bait is a less annoying option than early morning banter. “About what?” she asks flatly. 

“About whether or not you really think I have the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen,” Penelope replies, the amusement in her tone enough to make Josie’s blood run cold. “Also, do you really think I’m a heartthrob?”

 _This is a nightmare. It has to be. There’s no way this is happening._ Josie whirls around and immediately zeroes in on the letter in Penelope’s hand— _her_ letter.

“Where did you get that?” Josie’s voice shakes and she can’t stop it.

“My mailbox,” Penelope says. Her brow furrows, as though she hadn’t expected Josie to look so distraught. “What, is it some practical joke from Lizzie?”

“No, it…” Josie trails off helplessly. “I wrote that _years_ ago.”

“Then why did you send it to me now?”

“I didn’t!” Josie exclaims. Her mind is spinning; Lizzie wouldn’t be so cruel to do this, surely, but if she didn’t do it then who did? And if Penelope has her letter, than does that mean everyone else does? Jed, Rafael… _Hope_.

Suddenly Hope’s behavior makes so much more sense. Josie nearly slams her own hand in her locker when the horrifying realization clicks.

Penelope gazes at her in a curious way—oddly concerned, if anything. “Josie?” she prompts. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you or anything…”

Even in her panic, Josie finds the energy to frown. “That’s exactly what you did,” she says.

“No, I was teasing,” Penelope corrects. “But that’s our thing.”

“We don’t have a _thing_ , Penelope,” Josie snaps. “You decided that yourself.”

This garners a disbelieving huff. “That’s not fair,” Penelope says. “I never said we couldn’t be friends.” But she shifts a bit against the wall, a slightly uncomfortable tension held in her shoulders.

“I don’t need you to be my friend,” Josie says, swallowing hard. Penelope can’t even meet her eyes when discussing their breakup, and that’s what hurts more than anything else. “You broke my heart. I can’t just get over that.”

“Do you really want to do this now?” Penelope sighs. “Josie—”

“No, actually,” Josie cuts her off. “I _don’t_ want to do this. I’m leaving, and you…you should leave me alone.” She does exactly that before Penelope can reply, absolutely _exhausted_ of having to walk away from Penelope Park when emotionally compromised.

But this—this is bigger than Penelope. And _much_ more catastrophic.

.

.

.

As soon as classes are over Josie makes the choice to never meet up with Hope before soccer tryouts.

In fact, she does something she would absolutely _never_ do under any circumstances: she borrows MG’s bike and rides it all the way home.

Josie knows that means leaving Lizzie alone and leaving Hope without an excuse, but frankly both issues are low on her list of priorities; the only thing Josie is preoccupied with is her box of letters and where the hell it is. She barely says a passing hello to her (surprised) father before she’s rushing upstairs in her sweaty, disheveled state, hoping that by some miracle only Penelope’s letter has somehow been mailed out.

No such luck. Josie’s room is cleaner than usual—not that it’s ever been particularly messy—and her box of letters is gone.

“Dad!” She’s running again. “What happened to my room?”

Alaric must sense something is wrong, because he appears tentative. “I cleaned up a bit,” he says. “For both you and Lizzie. I figured with your mom gone you both would be too sad to do it, and with the whole Goodwill thing—”

“ _Dad_. There was a box of letters under my bed. What happened to it?”

“Oh, that…” Alaric eyes her wearily. Josie knows she must look frantic, but she can’t help it. “I noticed you didn’t have stamps on any of those, so I got some. I wasn’t sure if you’d lost them—”

Josie might faint. She might literally faint. “Did you _mail_ them?”

Her father’s pained wince is answer enough. “I messed up again, didn’t I?”

There has never been a point in time where Josie has had no idea how to deal with something. She’s never had something mess up her life like this before, either—she’s stuck in a daze as she walks back outside where MG’s bike is waiting.

She pedals down the road with no destination in mind. She doesn’t remember telling her dad goodbye, or even offering an explanation as to why Lizzie wasn’t with her. She just…runs.

And, stuck with nothing but her thoughts for company, she comes to a grave conclusion: she _cannot_ let Lizzie find out.

.

.

.

Avoiding Hope turns out to be much harder than expected.

Lizzie still rides with Hope to school—she finds Josie by the buses at the start of school, always with some complaint that Josie should’ve just gone with her. (As far as Lizzie knows, Josie is only taking the bus so she can hang out with Nia; Josie had panicked and called Nia her new crush as a viable explanation).

Josie is thankfully allowed immunity to Hope’s company when Lizzie is around, but when Lizzie is gone Josie has to continue to evade Hope. Hope has even resorted to _talking_ to people because of it. As in, random students will see Josie and automatically tell her that Hope is looking for her.

Luckily, Josie doesn’t share any classes with Hope. They don’t run in the same circles, so she’s confident she can keep avoiding Hope well into the semester if she tries hard enough.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about _Penelope_.

They’re running laps in P.E. today and Penelope, infuriatingly, is keeping up with Josie far too easily. Clearly she hasn’t taken the hint—they’re still not _friends_ , and yet Penelope is acting as if they are.

“Hey.” Penelope slows beside her as she acknowledges Josie; Josie tries not to notice that Penelope cut her hair over the summer, leaving it too short to pull up into a ponytail.

“What now?” Josie side-eyes her warily. “Are you back to ‘tease’ me again?” This she says with pointed air quotes, to which Penelope raises her hands up noncommittally.

“I’m not here to pick a fight,” Penelope says. “Listen, if you’re embarrassed about that letter—”

“I am _not_ embarrassed.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” Penelope’s run becomes a light jog, and Josie hesitantly follows suit. “Even if we’re not friends, you can still…talk to me.”

Josie’s traitorous heart skips a beat at how genuine Penelope sounds. “I’m fine,” she assures Penelope as coolly as she can manage. “Like I said, I wrote that letter years ago. Obviously my feelings have changed.”

“Right.” But Penelope appears unnerved, as though she wants to say something but can’t. “Maybe we should talk about how you really feel, though. About us.”

“Are you seriously doing this again?” Josie stops running altogether. “Penelope. You broke my _heart_. How many times do you need to hear me say I don’t want to talk to you?”

The way Penelope gazes at her then is impassive. She has always been better at hiding her emotions away—Josie would get frustrated sometimes because she could never read her. While they were dating she hadn’t minded; Penelope was the charming, mysterious popular girl that loved Josie despite the expectations of everyone else.

Josie still _knew_ Penelope—or, well, knows her—better than anyone else. And what bothers her most is that she never saw the breakup coming.

“So is this it, then? Are we just not going to talk to each other anymore?” Penelope frowns. “Josie, come on.”

In an instant Josie stiffens. “What do you care?” she demands. “We weren’t friends before we started dating anyway.”

Penelope sighs, then looks away. Her hair is beginning to frizz with the heat and Josie itches to tuck the shorter hair behind Penelope’s ear; she _hates_ how stupidly attractive her ex is.

“I’m trying to be nice here,” says Penelope, finally, as her eyes lock with Josie’s again. “I don’t want us to end up hating each other.”

“I already hate you,” Josie says, and the words are so thick in her mouth that they come out shaky. “I hate you for hurting me and I can’t pretend like I don’t.” The urge to cry pricks at her resolve, but she squashes the feeling down.

Penelope’s impassiveness cracks. At last, she looks regretful. “I know,” she says quietly.

“I don’t want to know why you broke up with me,” Josie hastens to add, because as much as she _does_ , she fears the answer will hurt far worse than not knowing. “But I can’t do this, okay? I can’t pretend nothing happened.”

“Josie.” Penelope is poker-faced all at once again, but the way she clenches her jaw lets on that she is more uncomfortable than she looks. “I can’t explain it, it’s just…”

“ _No_ ,” Josie cuts her off. “I already said I don’t want to know.”

Whatever Penelope means to reply dies on her lips, because a shout of Josie’s name completely snaps through the tension between them. Josie is grateful for it (until she realizes that is too _familiar_ a shout of her name).

Hope is making her way towards the track field and she has an envelope in her hand. Josie is not a betting woman, but if she were to bet her life’s savings on that envelope being her letter— _the_ letter—she’s sure she would win. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Josie groans under her breath, heart sinking low in her chest. Her knee-jerk reaction is to take off running, but then…then her eyes fall on Penelope.

It’s a risky idea. A _stupid_ idea. An idea that, under any other circumstances, Josie wouldn’t entertain.

But Hope is getting closer and Josie has no other option; she throws her arms around her ex-girlfriend’s neck, throws them both to the ground, and kisses the _hell_ out of her.


	2. two (🎉)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote/edited a considerable chunk of this last night at 1 am so forgive if it's mistake-ridden lmao, but hEy i'm back!
> 
> thank you all so, so much for the positive reception of this fic. it's literally blown me away - you all are so nice i cry. especially huge thanks to everyone who found me over on tumblr too to talk about it, you guys are my favorite ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> i hope you all enjoy the spin on this au! we're getting to the good stuff now 👌

So maybe running is now her thing.

At least the Mystery Diner is her safe haven; Josie might never have a moment of peace from here on out, but she can still have a milkshake. The only downside is that it’s also _Hope’s_ place, so Josie will have to be extra careful when dropping by.

And yet, just as Josie is lulled into a false sense of security, fate decides it must be cruel; Penelope Park walks in.

She spots Josie about a second after Josie sees her. Much to Josie’s dismay, Penelope walks right up to the counter and takes a seat one stool over.

“Hey,” says Penelope, and she gives Josie a brief nod as if to acknowledge her presence—as if, Josie thinks, she hadn’t planned this entirely.

Josie resists the urge to frown. “Are you following me?” she demands sourly.

An amused half-smile is her answer. “No, but it was easy to guess you’d be here,” Penelope says. “This is your place to escape.”

“Well, it’s rude to intrude,” Josie mumbles without any bite, toying with the end of her straw wrapper in order to distract herself.

Landon Kirby comes out from the back soon afterwards, thankfully delaying any conversation for a while. He blinks at Penelope in surprise, then seemingly places her. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says. “What can I get you?”

“Just a root beer.” Penelope barely even looks at him. “Thanks.”

The dismissal is enough to drive Landon away, and then Penelope and Josie are alone again. Perfect.

But Penelope doesn’t say anything. And Josie, finally, takes it upon herself to break the silence. “You know, I’m pretty sure it was an unsaid rule,” she says, “that I get this place in the breakup.”

Penelope gives a huff of disbelivinging laughter. “We didn’t get a _divorce_ , Josie,” she says. “And I don’t care about this place—I’m not here to stake a claim on mediocre burgers and shitty milkshakes or whatever. I just came to find you.”

This time, Josie’s frown wins out. “Why?” 

“Um, I’d say that’s pretty self-explanatory,” Penelope says. “I came to ask about what happened in P.E.”

“Oh. That.” Glumly, Josie sucks up another mouthful of her melting milkshake; it’s so cold she nearly gets a brain freeze from the sip alone. 

“Yeah, _that_.” Penelope rests one arm on the counter, gaze burning along the side of Josie’s face. “Care to explain?”

“Like you gave me an explanation for our breakup?” says Josie unthinkingly, and it works to make Penelope wince. “Yeah. I thought so.”

Penelope turns away briefly, then finally angles her body sideways to stare at Josie fully, reluctant as though this is all a big inconvenience to her. “I thought you didn’t care about my reasons.”

“I don’t.” Josie refocuses on her glass. “And I don’t want to hear what you have to say, so…”

“Right. Except, I kind of feel like I should be more clear?” Penelope leans forward, the ambivalent tone of her voice hard to miss. “I’d still like to be friends—even if you’re opposed to the idea, clearly—but not anything more. That’s kind of the whole point of…breaking up.”

Josie blinks. “Are you really breaking up with me twice?”

“It’s not that—we’re not together anymore,” Penelope tries instead. “If I gave you mixed signals or something…”

“Oh my God. Don’t hurt yourself trying to sound concerned,” Josie says. “I have _no_ interest in getting back together, okay?”

At that moment, Landon arrives with Penelope’s drink. He also must have caught the end of their conversation, because he appears pained to witness it. 

Penelope ignores the fact that they now have an audience. “Josie, you kissed me. Pretty publicly. What am I supposed to think?”

“That wasn’t—it wasn’t _real_.”

“It felt pretty real. I still have your lip gloss on my mouth.” Penelope taps her lips as proof, and Josie reddens. 

“I didn’t kiss you because I _wanted_ to,” Josie argues weakly. “It has to do with the letters, okay? So…get over yourself.”

Penelope raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Letter _s_? Damn, Josie, that was quick.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Shut up. You’re one to talk,” she says, and before Penelope can argue, she soldiers right on. “Anyway, someone has been trying to talk to me about their letter, and I can’t do that, so…I had to kiss you to make her think I don’t like her.”

“Ah, the age-old jealousy schtick,” Penelope says, but her blasé expression is not as satisfied as Josie had expected it to be. “Do you?”

“What?”

“Do you still like this girl?”

Of _course_ not, but all Josie does is furrow her brow and say, “That’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough,” Penelope says. Her face remains as notably impossible to read as ever; Josie can’t tell if Penelope is surprised or hurt. If it were the latter she’d bet that Penelope Park’s precious ego can't fathom that she is not as irresistible as she thinks.

“If that’s all you had to ask…” Josie prompts, hoping Penelope will leave and allow her some quiet.

But then Penelope says, “It’s Hope, right? The girl you’re avoiding.”

Josie’s heart plummets to the pit of her stomach. “What?”

“She’s the only reasonable answer. If Lizzie finds out you like Hope, then she’ll lose her shit,” Penelope says. “And the last thing you want is Lizzie unhappy.”

“Maybe I _do_ like Hope,” Josie lies; she can’t stand how transparent she is right now, and declaring her feelings for someone else tends to make Penelope falter. “It’s really not your business either way.”

“Right, yeah.” Penelope’s root beer is barely touched, but she pushes it in Josie’s direction. “Want the rest?”

“No.” Josie’s heart thumps at the memory of a simpler time, a time when she would have happily taken her up on the offer.

And Penelope, surprisingly, doesn’t push. “Okay. Then I guess…that’s it.”

(Josie doesn’t dignify that with a response.)

.

.

.

Jed’s letter gets sent back to the Saltzman household.

It is a _relief_ that Josie had addressed it to the now-closed camp. Jed is probably the only person who would make a big deal out of it, being the jerk that he is. (Well, besides Penelope, but even her reaction had been tamer than Josie had anticipated). This leaves Josie in a relatively good mood that morning, all things considered. Even the bus ride to school can’t put a damper on her mood.

“Josie, hey, wait up!”

…but that can. Shit.

“Hi, Rafael,” Josie says weakly. She has been _dreading_ what Rafael will think of his letter. His hadn’t even been bad, but she would hate to give him the impression that she’s still interested. After all, she’d wrote that letter before she and Penelope even got together—it had been a confusing time, the lapse between attempting to get over her hopeless crush on Penelope and then actually _dating_ Penelope.

Rafael jogs up beside her, thankfully without any of his football buddies noticing. (Sometimes they’re as bad as a group of gossipy teenage girls, the way they tease). “Hey,” he says somewhat awkwardly, falling in step beside her. “Uh—I think this is yours.” He fishes a crumpled envelope from his backpack, which he then passes over. “It seemed kind of personal?”

Josie _knows_ how pathetic she must look; a grimace on her face, her cheeks flared red. “Rafael, I’m _so_ sorry. You weren’t supposed to get that,” she says. “It was more of—well, something for me. I would never send that to you while you’re dating someone.”

“Hey, no worries.” Rafael shrugs, hitches his backup back up onto his shoulder. He smiles in that kind-but-hesitant way of his, endearingly shy. “You said some flattering stuff.”

“I did write it so long ago,” Josie hastens to add, just to reassure him. “I really don’t feel that way about you anymore. Um, no offense.”

“None taken.” Rafael laughs a little, then shakes his head. “So—are you heading to homeroom?”

Josie, relieved, nods in affirmation. “Yeah, I’m on my way.”

Rafael gestures loosely in direction of the building. “Want to walk together?”

“Sure.” Josie is pleasantly surprised by this turn of events. That…actually hadn’t been _too_ terrible, all things considered.

And since the aftermath of three of her letters has been cleared up, Josie can devote all her energy towards avoiding Hope. It works out immensely in her favor that Rafael walks with her to class, because they end up passing Hope in the hallway—and even though Josie feels Hope’s eyes on her, she knows Hope would never make a scene. 

The shame of avoiding her almost-friend still pains Josie greatly. But she hates confrontation, and right now her best bet looks like avoiding Hope until graduation. Fun.

When she and Rafael part ways Josie assumes she’s in the clear. As the world tends to remind her, however, that is far from the case; Lizzie comes find her soon enough.

“Josie! _Spill_. Kaleb told me you walked with Rafael to class today. Did he mention me?”

MG, who’s apparently been dragged along for the ride, looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Since when is talking about Rafael an emergency?” he complains, affronted, but Lizzie doesn’t care to answer his question.

Josie shakes her head and pretends to be consumed with flipping through her pre-calc book. “No, he didn’t say anything,” she says.

Lizzie frowns. “Then why’d he walk with you?”

“I don’t know, he…was probably just trying to be friendly,” Josie lies. “I know his brother, so…” 

“Rafael has a brother?”

“Uh, yeah? Landon Kirby. He was your lab partner last semester.”

When understanding dawns on her, Lizzie snaps her fingers. “Right! The thrift store hobbit,” she says. “I remember he had a thing for Hope Mikaelson. That was _so_ sad.”

Her sister looks far too pleased at her jab, but Josie takes a chance on defending her friend anyway. “You know…” she tries. “Hope isn’t _that_ bad.”

“You’re kidding,” Lizzie scoffs, but her expression hardens once Josie bites her lip and glances away. “Josie. Hope Mikaelson literally told the school I was _crazy_.”

 _She didn’t_ , Josie thinks with a turning stomach. “I know, but—” she forces herself to exhale. “Well, Dad thinks she’s great. And she always takes us to school.”

“A few rights don’t make up for what she’s done,” Lizzie scoffs. “Until she actually apologizes, I don’t care what goes on with her.”

“Right, but, that was such a long time ago,” Josie says, “and Hope probably feels bad but doesn’t want to say anything…”

Lizzie stares at her like she’s grown an extra head. “What is up with you? Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not! I’m just, all about second chances.”

MG clears his throat. “Hey, so, class is going to start soon…” he says nervously. The unintentional interruption distracts Lizzie enough so Josie can drop her gaze to her desk. “Should we go?”

“Fine,” Lizzie sighs. “See you later, Josie.” This time she doesn’t sound miffed; Josie will take that victory, however small.

Maybe if she comes clean to Lizzie then she won’t _have_ to avoid Hope anymore. And maybe they can all truly be friends again, like they used to be. Life would be so much simpler.

If only middle-school-aged Josie knew how disastrous one little lie would turn out to be.

.

.

.

With the weather staying pleasant, Alaric decides he’s going to host a barbecue—and, unfortunately, the Mikaelsons are pretty much the only people on the guest list.

“Can’t I stay inside my room?” Josie pleads as she helps carry out the food. “I’m not hungry. I think I might be getting sick…”

“Josie, it’s a beautiful day. Have _one_ burger with us. I got veggie patties just for you,” Alaric says. Quieter he adds, “We haven’t spent much time together as a family since school started. I think we need this.”

Josie’s shoulders slump. “Okay,” she gives in. “You’re sure Mom’s coming?”

“She is. She promised.”

“Fine.” Josie sits down in a lawn chair, glumly resigned to observing as her father fires up the grill. He’s hapless with it, but he tries.

Lizzie, in the meantime, is trying to invite as many people as she can get away with. MG is a sure deal—Josie is still waiting for Lizzie to realize how hopelessly in love with her he is—and Kaleb will probably come if only for the free food.

Within the hour their mom has arrived. Lizzie won’t admit how happy she is to see her, so Josie hugs Caroline extra tight to make up for it.

The Mikaelsons come next, but thankfully, so does MG; Josie attaches herself to his side _immediately_ , leaving Hope to socialize with Alaric and the other parents.

“So is it true that you made out with Penelope Park in P.E.?” MG asks. “Jed told Kaleb you did.”

“We don’t say her name, remember?” Josie sighs, taking a long drink of the watered-down vodka that Kaleb himself has brought in. “Ugh. Does everyone know I did that?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” MG says, apologetic. “But you’re nursing a wounded soul and all that. It’s natural to slip.”

Josie rubs at the inside of her wrist, feels her skin warm from the alcohol. “It’s not that. I didn’t even _want_ to kiss her,” she mumbles.

“Hey, no judgement. I know this has been hard for you.” MG throws an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly. “Lizzie wanted to bulldoze you about it, but I talked her out of it. You’re welcome.”

“That’s impressive,” Josie says, elbowing him lightly. “It’s been like a week and Lizzie hasn’t said anything.”

“Exactly! That was all me, I’m that great.” MG grins as he elbows her back, clumsily enough to make Josie laugh.

She almost asks him about his obvious crush on Lizzie, but ultimately doesn’t. It would be mean, she thinks, to make him suffer along with her.

“Hey, Josie? Can we talk?”

MG must feel her stiffen, because he gives her a questioning look. Josie unwillingly glances up and sees exactly what she’d dreaded: Hope Mikaelson standing in front of her.

“Um,” Josie says, “I would, but, MG and I were just about to eat, so…”

“We can always wait, if you have to—” MG cuts himself off at the sharp pinch to his side. “Yep, yeah, we were about to eat actually.”

Hope nods, stiff and dejected, and takes a step back. “Then maybe later?” she hedges. Her eyes dart to MG briefly, almost as if unsure to let on that she and Josie talk.

“Later, definitely,” Josie promises with no intend to keep it. The instant Hope walks away she jumps to her feet and says, “How do you feel about a nighttime drive?”

MG blinks. “What?”

“Let’s go on a drive,” Josie clarifies. She doesn’t have to look to see that MG is thrown off at the very idea. “I’ll let _you_ drive if that makes you feel better.”

“Okay…” MG trails after her as she makes her way inside, clearly uneasy. “Is there a reason we’re avoiding Hope?”

“We’re not,” Josie says, tossing him her car keys. “I just decided I want a milkshake.”

“You had a craving for a milkshake when your dad’s out there grilling your favorites? I saw him throw zucchini on that grill. You sure you want to give it up for McDonald’s?” MG asks.

“I’ll…explain what’s happening eventually, alright? Just _please_ don’t ask me any more questions tonight,” Josie implores. “I need to get away for now.”

“Hey, no, I’m your guy,” MG says. “I could go for a milkshake.” 

Josie breathes a little easier once they’re on the road. MG always knows what to say; he doesn’t mention Hope, Penelope, or any other topic that might be too heavy—instead he talks about superheroes, and how in English he plans to give the best presentation on Dracula that the school has ever seen.

Once they’re seated in the McDonald’s parking lot, both with lackluster milkshakes in hand, Josie breaks the silence on her end. “Hey, MG?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think—you’ve ever been in love?” It comes out in a rush, barely audible to anyone’s ears, and seemingly gives MG pause.

“Honestly? No,” MG answers. “Not that I don’t love you guys, or anything…”

“I know what you mean,” Josie says. She glances down at her hands, realizes they’re shaking. “I think…I was in love with Penelope.” She rests her cup against her cheek for the chill of the melting ice and admits, “I think I might still be in love with Penelope. And she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry, Josie,” MG says quietly. “That sucks.”

Josie has long lost her appetite but she continues to methodically stir her milkshake with her straw, never mind that it’s pathetic. “I have to ask,” she says. “Did she—did she tell you she was going to do it?”

“Peez and I aren’t close enough friends for that,” MG says. “But you know I would’ve told you if I even _suspected_ she’d…you know.”

“Yeah.” Josie resolutely sets her cup aside, then sinks back in her seat. “What do you think about Hope?”

A beat. “Uh, I don’t really think about Hope,” MG says. “Is that a trick question?”

“She’s my friend,” Josie blurts out, because she has to tell _someone_ and this secret has been building up a tension she didn’t even realize has been kept tight in her shoulders, her chest, her head. “Lizzie doesn’t know it, but Hope is my friend.”

“Right,” MG says slowly. “What’s the big deal between Hope and Lizzie anyway? If Hope’s your friend, why would that matter?”

“It’s _Lizzie_. She can hold a grudge forever if she wants to,” Josie retorts pointedly. “I don’t know how to tell her the truth about why she hates Hope so much.”

“And the truth is…”

Josie bites her lip, suddenly regretful. “It’s complicated,” she settles on saying. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Jo,” MG assures her. “But I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, MG.” Josie gives him a grateful smile. “And I’m sorry for dragging you all the way out here. Oh my God, wait—I didn’t even let you eat anything!”

MG laughs. “You can make it up to me by buying me chicken nuggets,” he suggests. “ _And_ you can’t say anything about how gross they are.”

“I promise I won’t complain,” Josie swears, “even if they can barely be classified as chicken—”

“Josie! That _counts_ as saying something!”

.

.

.

“I have an idea.”

Josie doesn’t bother to lift her eyes from her textbook. “You are like a lingering cough,” she mutters, then calmly turns the page.

Penelope, undeterred, squeezes up beside Josie on the library bench. “Hear me out,” she says. “You’re still avoiding Hope, right?”

“We’ve established that’s none of your business.”

“Right, but like I said, I have an idea.” Penelope glares at the flurry of people shushing her a table away, promptly quieting them when they realize who she is. Nonetheless, she still lowers her voice. “I think we should pretend we’re back together.”

At that, Josie nearly tears the next page mid-turn. “ _What_?”

“You don’t want her to know you have a crush on her, so dating me would make sense,” Penelope goes on to elaborate, as if she hasn’t just dropped the equivalent of a _bomb_. “Plus, it would explain why you kissed me in P.E.”

“I _don’t_ —” Josie bites her tongue before she argues that she does not, in fact, have a crush on Hope. “I-I don’t need to explain anything to anyone, actually.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really.” Josie tries her best to glower. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever suggested.”

“Ouch, Jojo.” Penelope grasps at her heart, feigning hurt. “I’m just trying to help you out here.”

“I don’t need your help,” Josie snaps.

“But it wouldn’t hurt to have it,” Penelope returns, just another part of this never-ending dance between them.

Josie squares her jaw and tries not to lose her composure. “No one would believe for a second that we broke up and suddenly got back together a few months later,” she says. 

“Your friends might doubt it, but everyone else wouldn’t,” Penelope counters. “I don’t know if you know this, but I _kind_ of have a reputation for being charming.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “You’re _insufferable_.”

“That’s part of the charm,” says Penelope, paired with a teasing wink that Josie pretends not to notice.

“What would you get out of pretending we’re back together?” she demands instead. “You made it very clear we’re broken up.”

“That’s why it would only be pretend,” Penelope points out. “We wouldn’t actually date, just…let people think we are.”

“Which is, again, the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Josie reiterates. “You don’t have to concern yourself with what goes on in my life anymore, remember?”

The corner of Penelope’s mouth twitches, as though she is fighting a smile. “You have a tendency to be very cruel when you want to be,” she says. “It’s kind of hot.”

“Oh my _God_.” Josie slams her book shut. “We’re not doing this!”

The chorus of people shushing starts up again and Josie, contrite, shuts her mouth. When she glances at Penelope out of the corner of her eye, she notices Penelope is fidgeting with the cuffs of her jacket.

All at once the trademark audacious demeanor of Penelope Park vanishes. “I’m sorry,” she says, dropping her gaze to her hands. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget that we’re not…” She doesn’t finish her thought, but Josie knows what she means.

Josie’s breath traitorously hitches. “It is?” she doesn’t mean for her voice to come out so fucking _hopeful_ , but here she is. “That’s…” She shakes her head. “That’s all the more reason not to pretend we’re back together,” she maintains firmly. “We can’t blur the lines.”

“Maybe it’s a bad idea,” Penelope agrees, unexpectedly, and when she raises her head again she tilts it in an effortless coquettish manner—a way of masking her previous vulnerability, most likely. “But you and I both know I’ve never shied away from those.”

A pause. “It’s not _just_ that,” Josie says. “You hurt me. That’s not going to go away. I’m…I’m still mad at you.”

The tentative playfulness vanishes from Penelope’s face completely. “Then let me make it up to you by helping you. I promise, I’m not offering this to hurt you,” she says, and the worst part is that she seems earnest—seems apologetic. “I want it to be a start towards being friends.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t want to be your friend,” Josie reminds her, but it comes out quiet and not nearly as defensive as she would’ve liked.

“Yeah, but I’m persistent,” Penelope says. “It’s part of—”

“Do _not_ say it’s part of your charm,” Josie cuts her off. “The answer is no, okay? I’m not interested.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now.” Penelope takes her time to stand up, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles from her jacket. “Think about it.”

“I promise I won’t,” Josie scoffs, turning right back to her book. The words are swimming on the page, blurred and illegible, before a torn piece of paper slides into her eye of sight.

Penelope’s fingertips trace down the center of the page before she tucks the folded paper against Josie’s hand. “Jed’s throwing a party tomorrow night,” she says. “In case you want to come.”

Josie swallows thickly, feels the way Penelope’s hand lingers against hers for a second too long. “Don’t hold your breath,” she says.

“I’ll be there,” Penelope says anyway. “If you change your mind.”

This time, she doesn’t stick around for a retort. Penelope does not look once back when she walks away; Josie knows, because she watches. Despite her better judgement, Josie unfolds the slip of paper to find an address scrawled lopsidedly across the bleeding lines.

Inexplicably, she doesn't feel the urge to throw it away.

.

.

.

“Hey, why does Lizzie think you’re into Nia?”

“Huh?” Josie barely manages to catch the basketball as it’s thrown to her, much less toss it back.

MG has to snatch it out of the air before it goes flying towards the pair beside them. “Lizzie said you like Nia,” he repeats. “Is that true?”

“Oh. No,” Josie says. “Why did she tell you that?”

“She wants to set you two up on a date,” MG says, and then he squarely passes the ball back. “Please help. I haven’t studied in four days because she keeps dragging me into her schemes.”

“You _can_ tell her no. That’s allowed,” Josie says. She fumbles the next catch, and has to slow down to pick up the ball all over again.

“But then she’d hate me. You’re the one who told me she can hold a grudge,” MG points out.

Josie pauses to brush the sweat off her forehead. “MG, _when_ are you going to ask her out?” she asks. “It’s kind of sad how long you’ve been pining.”

MG misses the next catch entirely. “What?” he yelps. “I’m not—I’m not pining.”

“You so are,” Josie says. Their conversation is halted by the cry of the P.E. teacher’s whistle, which means their exercise is over for now. As they fall back in line with the other students, MG leans in to whisper,

“Even if I did—which I don’t!—it’s not like it would matter, remember? She’s into Rafael.”

“Yeah, but Lizzie crushes on tons of unavailable boys,” Josie whispers back. “We both know it’s never going to happen.”

“What is it with everyone trying to help me with Lizzie lately? Am I that predictable?” MG frowns. “First Peez, now you…”

“Wait. _Penelope_ offered to help you ask out Lizzie?” Josie says. “When?”

“Earlier this summer.” MG shifts from foot to foot, as though slightly uncomfortable with the reminder. “I-I didn’t want to say anything, obviously, since that’s when…everything went down.”

“You mean when she dumped me,” Josie says. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

“Obviously I didn’t take her up on it!” MG adds, quickly. “I’m team Josie. You know that, right?”

“You’re allowed to stay friends with her, MG,” Josie says, though the sincerity in her friend’s voice is enough to prompt a sincere smile. She’s _touched_ that MG was willing to take her side—if, of course, there was a need to take sides. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?” MG grins back. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep all mention of her to a minimum.”

“Thanks.” Josie hands off their basketball, then stops to retie her shoes. “You’re done for the day, right? Want to come by my house?”

“Nah, I’m not a free man yet. Kaleb has football practice and I’m heading there to see him,” MG says. “You can come too! Lizzie said she was going to try to make it, if I drop her off later.”

“I guess I can do that,” Josie says. “I assume she’s going there to watch Raf?”

“Who would she be if she wasn’t?”

It is not the afternoon Josie envisioned, but it certainly beats evading Hope on a walk to the bus area. MG shares a bag of popcorn he’s brought along and they make a game of trying to catch pieces in their mouths; MG is an expert, while Josie can’t quit giggling enough to match his success.

Practice is underway by the time they arrive. The warm afternoon air is thick with shouts from the football players, thick with cheers from the smattering of students that have come to watch. Someone drums against the metal of the bleachers, a sharp, upbeat melody that eventually morphs into at least four people clapping to the beat of “We Will Rock You.”

“I’m going to say hi to Kaleb,” MG says. “You want to find Lizzie?”

“Sure.” Josie has always liked crashing Kaleb’s practice; it’s a much more lowkey version of a proper game. Plus, Josie gets to enjoy the scene more—gets to take in the scent of new footballs, the scent of newly-mowed grass. Something about it is comforting.

She finds Lizzie alone on the bleachers. Lizzie wordlessly scoots over when Josie approaches, then says,

“You didn’t come home with us yesterday.”

“Yeah, I took the bus,” Josie says. “I actually really like taking the bus, you know?” She swings her legs mindlessly, enjoying the fact that she can since no one is sitting below them.

“Because of Nia?” Lizzie prompts. It’s only at the question that Josie realizes Lizzie has been staring at her side profile—scrutinizing, more like. “Josie, tell me something. Are you over Penelope?”

It’s blunt in a manner Lizzie tends to be. Josie’s mouth falls open to respond, but she can’t quite muster up a resounding yes.

Lizzie sighs. “What’s going on with you?” she asks. “You have been squirrely for the past two weeks. Did something else happen with she-who-must-not-be-named? I _know_ you kissed her. Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Josie says. It is a half-truth, really; she’s avoiding Hope, and Lizzie is lumped in with her by default.

“Don’t lie to me,” Lizzie huffs. “You completely lied about being into Nia, didn’t you? Is it because you’re still hung up over _Penelope Park_? She’s not worth the heartache.”

 _Tell that to my heart, then_ , Josie thinks bitterly. Out loud she mutters, “Don’t be mad about it, Lizzie.”

“I’m _not_ mad. Is that why you didn’t tell me about swapping spit with Satan? Because you thought I’d be mad at you?” Lizzie’s expression softens. “I’m worried about you, but I’d never be mad.”

“It’s not like it’s a big deal,” Josie says. “It’s just that…” She almost comes clean right then and there, about everything that has been going on with Hope. But before she gets a chance to, Lizzie bulldozes on:

“You _have_ to get over your evil ex. I wanted to have an intervention for you, but MG said it would be ‘ill-advised’ or whatever,” Lizzie scoffs, complete with annoyed air quotes and everything. “It sucks that you’re not actually into Nia. A good crush would’ve evened you out.”

“You don’t need to be preoccupied with my love life,” Josie says, tucking her knees up to her chest as she inwardly sighs. “I’m doing just fine on my own.”

“In what world is making out with Penelope Park proof that you’re _fine_?” Lizzie frowns. “She broke your heart. Are you really going to let her keep doing this to you?”

“It’s not like I asked for this!” Josie knows she sounds defensive, but it has to be said—she may be hurting, but she’d never let her feelings take control of her life. “Do you think I asked her to break my heart? Do you think I asked her to have this—this _hold_ on me? You don’t understand what I’m going through, Lizzie. You can’t get all high and mighty about my feelings.”

“I’m trying to keep you from making a _mistake_ , Josie,” Lizzie says, stunned, rearing back as though this burst of frustration is coming out of left field. “What is going on with you?”

Josie doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. How exactly can she say _your tough love methods hurt me more than they should_? How exactly can she be mad at Lizzie, knowing that she’s hurt Lizzie so much without Lizzie even _knowing_? She can’t. She can’t come clean about Hope either—Lizzie will think she’s an idiot, and then Lizzie will resent her too, and their supposed fresh start for junior year will completely fall apart.

So instead she blinks back her frustrated tears and mumbles, “Nothing is going on, okay.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “You’re shutting me out, Jo,” she says. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything.”

“Not everything,” Josie mumbles. It’s not meant to be rude—more self-pitying than anything—but Lizzie’s frown deepens.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I—I have to go,” Josie says, and she jumps to her feet. “Tell MG I’m sorry I left.” She springs into action then, taking the steps two at a time to get away.

Lizzie calls after her to wait, obviously confused, but Josie doesn’t pause for a second.

.

.

.

The sun is setting.

Josie has been walking aimlessly for the past hour with no destination in mind—the darkening sky is not a pretty sight like it ought to be, only a threat. It reminds Josie that she has nowhere to go.

She can’t go home; Lizzie will be there soon. She debates taking an Uber to Mystic Falls Diner, but it’s a Friday night; Hope might be there.

So she keeps walking, until the air gets chilly and she has to burrow her hands into her jacket pockets. Her hand bumps against something, and she curiously unfurls a slip of torn paper before she realizes it’s the address to Jed’s house.

It would be outlandishly stupid to consider it. It really, really would.

But when she pulls up the address she finds that it is a block away from where she’s currently standing, and so she does worse than consider: she starts walking again. This time, with a destination in mind.

Josie doesn’t even know that she’s looking for something until she arrives at Jed’s doorstep and sees Penelope Park surrounded by her usual gaggle of admirers. For a second she stands by the wall, unnoticed, to observe; there is no girl hanging off Penelope’s arm tonight, but there are no shortage of takers. Sometimes Josie wonders what it would be like to have that kind of pull over people. Penelope makes it look so easy; she has never had to _try_ to charm anyone. People flock to her naturally—they always have, even when she and Josie were dating. Josie had dealt with her fair share of jealousy, but she had never let on about it. Now she doubts Penelope even noticed (or even _cared_ ). 

Music is thumping somewhere outside, loud enough that when Josie leans against the wall she feels the walls shake. Inside it’s faint, a thrumming sound drowned out by the conversations being held, but still lingering. With the beat of a distant bass against her back and the chatter of high-pitched female voices and jubilant male shouts in her ears, she finally comes to her senses: this is a _very_ bad idea.

Before she can make her quiet getaway (and pretend none of this ever happened), two guys racing each other throughout the house decide to make themselves known; they tumble into a heap right at her feet, spilling a keg’s worth of beer _everywhere_. Most of it splatters across the very wall Josie is pressed up against, splashing her from head-to-toe.

 _So much for not being seen_.

“Oh shit,” one guy groans, half-dazed. “My bad, dude.” This he directs to Josie in a slurred voice, blearily blinking up at her before rolling face-first into the spilled beer.

The other guy clutches at his stomach and wheezes, “Bro, anybody know how to check if a rib is broken?”

“Hey, dickheads! What the fuck are you doing?”

There isn’t any moment to prepare—not even a second—before Penelope appears. Josie is all too aware of how she looks, drenched in beer like a drunken deer in headlights, while Penelope stands across from her without so much as a hair out of place.

But Josie is not who Penelope is looking at. She stares down the boys spread out on the floor instead—stares at them while a disgusted frown forms at the corners of her lips—a fuming glare that everyone knows means business. “Take your dumb bets outside, morons,” she says. “Jed will literally _kill_ you for this.”

The guy with the possible broken rib pales. “We were just racing,” he says weakly.

“Oh yeah? Well how about you watch where you’re running?” Penelope scoffs. Finally she glances at Josie, and the way her contempt melts away leaves Josie uncomfortably fiddling with her wet shirt sleeve. “You okay, Josie?”

“Yeah,” says Josie, almost too softly to be heard. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Jed’s bathroom is two doors that way,” Penelope says, gesturing vaguely down a hallway. “Come with me, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

Josie immediately shakes her head. “No!” she says hastily. “I was just on my way out. I’ll deal with all… _this_ at home.”

“Why are you leaving? You couldn’t have been here long, I would’ve noticed you,” Penelope says, forehead wrinkled in confusion. Her mascara is heavy tonight, but Josie can see the concern hidden beneath those dark lashes.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Josie says, plain and simple. “I really—” She laughs it off, or attempts to anyway. With a lame gesture towards the door, she takes a clumsy step in its direction; her shoes skid a bit against the wet floor, but she doesn’t fall.

She doesn’t fall because Penelope has reached out to steady her.

“But you did come,” Penelope says. Her mouth is not smiling but her eyes are, and when she again suggests that Josie follow her to the bathroom Josie does not say no.

Jed is apparently a close enough friend of Penelope’s that she can get away with stealing his clothes—Josie takes off her sweater, shirt, and jeans and trades them for Jed’s sweatpants and a black T-shirt two sizes too big. Penelope waits outside the bathroom door the entire time, knocking once or twice to let Josie know she’s still out there.

Josie stares at her pitiful reflection in the bathroom mirror and tearfully _sighs_ once she’s done changing. She ties the T-shirt so it’s more fitted to her body, then cuffs the dark gray sweatpants to keep from tripping, all the while resisting the urge to cry. She hates every second of it, having to bag her beer-scented clothes in a plastic bag. She hates that she put herself in this situation. And more than anything, she hates that she still has to face Penelope.

“Josie? You okay in there?”

She’ll have to face the music eventually, so Josie opens the door. “I’m done,” she says, unnecessarily. “I look like I just rolled out of bed.”

“Better than soaked through with Corona though, right?” Penelope steps inside, surveying Josie’s new look with a small smile. “I think you look nice.”

“Ha ha,” Josie deadpans. “I bet you’re loving this.”

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“The fact that I’m making a total fool of myself,” Josie mutters. The ends of her hair are wet with beer still, and she forlornly combs her fingers through the tangled strands. “Everyone will think you’re some kind of hero or something.”

“Aren’t I your hero in this situation?” It’s a rhetorical question; Penelope does not wait for a reply. “Here. Your new outfit is missing one thing.” She shrugs off her leather jacket and places it right on Josie’s shoulders as if nothing—doesn’t even move Josie’s beer-soaked hair out of the way.

“This is your jacket,” says Josie, dumbly. “I can’t take it.”

“It’s only for tonight,” Penelope says. “You’ll be cold, getting home.”

“So will you,” Josie points out, but Penelope merely smiles a bit wider, a smile Josie recognizes as a fond one.

“I’m not the one who got a shower in beer slush,” Penelope counters. “Just take it. You can give it to me tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Josie would argue more if she wasn’t ready for this day to _end_. “I’ll drop it off by your locker tomorrow morning.”

Penelope props open the door, then peeks out as if gauging the atmosphere. “Whatever works,” she says nonchalantly. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, I’m calling an Uber,” Josie says. “I should probably do that, so.” She puts her hands through the sleeves of Penelope’s jacket after a minute, caught up in the scent of smoke and perfume that comes with it.

“Right…” Penelope takes the first step out of the bathroom, but she stops before she gets too far; she whirls around and watches Josie follow. “Josie, why did you come here tonight?” she blurts out.

Josie breathes through her nose and admits, “I don’t know.”

Penelope crosses her arms, frowns quizzically. “You had to have a reason,” she says.

“I didn’t have a reason so much as I had…an epiphany,” Josie says. She buries her hands in the jacket pockets to hide the fact that she’s clenching them into fists. “I’ve realized I’m a shitty sister? And an even worse friend.”

“What?” Penelope’s frown sharpens. “No you’re not.”

“Actually, I am. Because I’ve been keeping a big secret from Hope and Lizzie,” Josie sighs. “And instead of talking to them I’m standing here _considering_ the idea of pretending we’re back together so I don’t have to tell them the truth.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person. We all have secrets—it’s natural,” Penelope says. She runs her hands through her hair, casting an impatient glance towards the party as a few people erupt into drunken cheers. “It’s okay that you don’t want to pretend we’re back together. I know how it must’ve sounded, when I suggested it.”

“Then why did you suggest it at all?” Josie wraps her arms around herself and refrains from another sigh. “Why hypothetically put yourself through this for no reason?”

“I do everything for a reason.” In the low lighting Penelope’s eyes look dark; they shine heavily, no trace of self-satisfied smugness to be found when they fall on Josie again. “My offer still stands. If you let me, I’m here to help.” There’s another round of cheers, this time louder than last. “I should…probably go stop them before they break everything Jed owns.”

“Are you co-hosting his party or something?” Josie has no reason to be jealous. She _knows_ that. But convincing her heart of logistics has always been a losing battle.

“Or something,” Penelope answers cryptically, an odd half-smile twisting at her lips. “You sure you can find your way home?”

“I’m sure.” Josie takes the first step away from Penelope, back out into the real world; away from the secluded darkness of the hallway, the bustle of the party in the living room is a shock. “Um. Penelope? Can I ask you a question?”

Penelope pauses half a yard away. “Yeah, shoot,” she says, barely audible over the chaos.

“If I said yes,” and here, Josie has to pause to inhale, “what would that mean?”

The way Penelope regards Josie then is a slow, amused kind of way. “ _Is_ that a yes?”

“Well…what happens if I say no?” Josie watches as Penelope begins to close the distance between them one tentative step forward at a time, holding her breath without even realizing.

“Then I walk away,” Penelope replies matter-of-factly. “It’s no skin off my back, Jojo.”

Josie swallows. “And what happens when I say yes?” The lack of the word _if_ is a risky one, but Penelope—now about a foot away and every bit as patient as she’s been all night—picks up on the hesitation right away.

“Then I do this,” Penelope says softly, and she draws Josie in by the bottom of her jacket. She makes no further move, waiting for Josie to take the hint; Josie gives her a small, short nod without really considering the consequences of what is about to happen.

And then Penelope cups Josie’s face in her hands, thumbs reverently over her cheeks. It is reminiscent of so many good times together that when Penelope kisses her so gently, so cautiously, Josie forgets that she is supposed to be hating Penelope Park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! as per usual, find me over on [tumblr](https://pippytmi.tumblr.com/) or check out the [fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3gHZuXWcuMBmtz1j7YZqmu?si=2Ry_IomvS_CiM1wbN9k4tw) if you want to 💖
> 
> also, i've recently tried my hand @ attempting a social media au on twitter?? so if you want to check it out i'm @[annalisevillas](https://twitter.com/annalisevillas)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! and btw i made a [playlist here](https://open.spotify.com/user/ttmc0o0d0ssarll3vcxcvbq74/playlist/3gHZuXWcuMBmtz1j7YZqmu?si=2Ry_IomvS_CiM1wbN9k4tw) because i love a good soundtrack (though it’s v much a work in progress)
> 
> & you can find me on tumblr @ [pippytmi](https://pippytmi.tumblr.com/#_=_) 💖


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